


No More I Love You's (Until I'm Ok)

by baeconandeggs, bleuhouse



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Idol Baekhyun, M/M, Romance, Smut, music producer Chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuhouse/pseuds/bleuhouse
Summary: Chanyeol falls asleep in Yongsan, and wakes up in Gangnam
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 54
Kudos: 344
Collections: BAE2020





	No More I Love You's (Until I'm Ok)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** BAE342  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author's Note:** Thank you to my beta, J, for helping me through this extremely long process. I owe my life to you. This is my first time participating as an author for BAE, so I'm slightly nervous about the whole thing, but either way I had tons of fun writing this fic and hope you have fun reading it as well!

It’s the same thing every time. Hazy dinners crowded in the back room of a sleazy barbeque restaurant, with copious amounts of alcohol to settle the mood. The clanking of silverware is almost too sharp in Chanyeol’s ears despite the fact that his coworkers are blabbing away and pretending to laugh at some horrible joke. He loves these people, but no amount of meat or alcohol is enough to extinguish the raging inferno in their hearts.

This isn’t just some ordinary dinner with old friends from college. No, this is a celebratory dinner that happens all too often in the heart of Seoul. It’s a free pass to drink your brains out and not have to face the consequences of your actions in the morning, no matter how bad the hangover is. Dinners like these are supposed to be relieving — a triumphant showcase of hard work. A showcase for who? Chanyeol doesn’t really know because it sure as hell isn’t for him, but he suspects it may be for the other people around him, and the fifty million other people who flock together with their coworkers to have a drink and stuff their faces with fatty meat. Not to mention the fact that half the people at this table haven’t _really_ met the person they’ve worked for.

Being a music producer under a practically no-name record company means working long hours to perfect beats, while people much bigger than Chanyeol come sweeping in to buy _his_ songs that took months to produce, only for it to land in the hands of a hot-shot, not-so-great producer who will undoubtedly “tweak” it and slap their name on it. That’s precisely what happened to Chanyeol, the graphic designer on his left, the executive producer who funded the whole project on his right, and the remaining three other people on his team.

It suddenly dawns on Chanyeol that he doesn’t really know what he and the rest of his team are celebrating. They have, more or less, been robbed of their intellectual property, and if it wasn’t for the handsome payment they received, Chanyeol knows the last thing his team would be doing is pouring a drink for each other.

“Why does this meat taste bitter?” Chanyeol’s coworker and beat-mixing comrade, Haesung, questions.

There’s petulant laughter going around the table. “Maybe it’s because we just worked on the biggest project of our careers and didn’t get a lick of recognition for it,” Chanyeol answers.

“No, it’s because the biggest project of our careers just sold over five hundred thousand units and we don’t get recognition _or_ a share of the royalties,” Haesung fires back.

“Since when do you care about the money?” Chanyeol jokingly questions. “I thought you did it for the...what did you call it? A musical cleansing?”

This gets the rest of Chanyeol’s team bubbling with laughter. “It’s not my fault half of South Korea would rather listen to bubble gum pop than real music,” Haesung defends, throwing back another shot of soju.

Chanyeol agrees, which leaves him left with a sense of pride that he and Haesung share such similar ideas when it comes to music. Both of their styles are completely different, but one thing they can agree on is the fact that the music scene in South Korea is nothing short of discovering the next Girls’ Generation.

Of course, there’s the elite few, in which Chanyeol and his team are a part of, who really do care about the type of music people listen to. It’s part of the reason why Chanyeol decided to pursue music in his third year of college rather than applied mathematics. Don’t get him wrong, he loves solving differential equations as much as the next guy, but music was just something Chanyeol couldn’t escape in his college years. That’s also where he met Haesung, an actual music major. The ideas Haesung had, and what he planned to do with them had Chanyeol entranced with the music world, which ultimately led both of them to compose anything and everything they could think of and try to pack it all together and call it a song. Although it did take them years to master the craft, Chanyeol doesn’t think they did too bad for themselves considering the fact that a few songs he and Haesung wrote and composed together are currently sitting at number one and three on the music charts for the fourth straight week in a row.

“Is that why we went the bubble gum pop route this time?” Chanyeol jokes, to lighten up the mood, but mostly to placate his team.

“We had no choice, Chanyeol,” Haesung sighs, turning the mood serious.

The look on Haesung’s face is somber, which is when Chanyeol realizes that there is no lightening up the mood in their situation. As much as this is a celebratory dinner with his amazing producing team, it’s also a coping mechanism to get through this tough time. No one will know just how hard they worked to make one of the best-selling albums in the country, and it’s people like them that the entertainment industry seems to forget.

It’s when Haesung raises his glass in front of him and drunkenly shouts “To the best fucking album makers in the world!” that Chanyeol, and the rest of his team, do the same and slam their glasses together one last time before all is forgotten, and the only thing going through their minds are the brain-numbing results of too much alcohol and a good time.

-

Four A.M. in Seoul is quiet and peaceful. Despite Chanyeol not remembering when he’s ever been up at such an ungodly hour, the cab ride back to his apartment, just as the beginning of dawn peeks through the horizon, is therapeutic in many ways. It’s nice to not have to weave through traffic, which Chanyeol takes to his advantage and gazes out the window like he’s seeing the city for the first time. Early rays of sunshine hit the tall buildings ahead as Chanyeol stares outside the car window in awe.

As the cab pulls up in front of his apartment building, Chanyeol thanks the driver and heads inside. His sight is still slightly blurry, and his speech is somewhat slurred. As Chanyeol struggles to punch in his passcode, he knows he’s still drunk. His inebriated state hasn’t worn off yet, so it’s a good thing he doesn’t have work later, which means more time to nurse the hangover that’s coursing through his body.

The walk to his bedroom is short. He doesn’t bother changing out of his clothes that have soaked in meat fumes, or even bother to brush the stench coming from his mouth. Darkness fills Chanyeol’s bedroom as he plops down on his bed. The soft, cotton fabric pillow case rubs gently against his face, and the weight of the heavy comforter anchors him down in the most familiar way—cradling him to sleep. Chanyeol is so warm and comfortable that his body relaxes and succumbs to the enticing aura of sleep. It pulls him in like a trance.

What seems like a few hours later, the once tolerable warmth slowly rises as it spreads throughout Chanyeol’s body, particularly below his waist. It’s unbearable, but feels oddly good at the same time. It takes Chanyeol a few minutes to finally put together that this must be a dream. That the sensation he’s feeling below the covers is his brain’s interpretation of someone giving him a hand job. He chuckles in his sleep because this is grounds to be the best wet dream he’s ever had. The hand on his dick strokes slowly with not too much pressure—just the way he likes— and in some twisted way Chanyeol knows it’s not him touching himself. The strokes ease up at the base, but move in quick pumps closer to the tip which makes Chanyeol gasp.

A hot gust of breath slams against Chanyeol’s neck, which makes all the sensations he’s feeling seem so real. He wants to open his eyes and calm himself down, but this is the most realistic feeling hand job he’s ever gotten in a dream, and ever since he’d been holed up in his studio making music, his bedroom activities have been close to nothing for the past two months, and it’d be a lie to say that he hadn’t thought about getting off more than twice a day.

But it’s when Chanyeol feels something pressing up against his thigh that gets his attention and slowly brings him out of his dream induced state. He experiments by moving his left thigh against the protruding object. It pushes back, almost grinding against his leg. That’s weird.

Chanyeol shoots his eyes open, and he immediately knows something is off. His eyes meet a smooth, ivory colored ceiling, which isn’t anything like the one at his apartment. He shifts his gaze to the right and there’s an expensive massage chair that he could only dream of buying for himself. He shifts again to the left and feels the brush of something soft and prickly against his cheek, almost like hair. As he peers down, Chanyeol doesn’t just find hair, but hair that belongs to a person. A person who just so happens to have their hand buried under the covers, manhandling his dick.

Chanyeol flails out of bed in terror. “What do you think you’re doing?” He looks down at himself and realizes that he’s naked. Great.

“Babe, what the fuck!” A man sits up on the bed, and Chanyeol realizes that this person is naked as well, and wait, did he just call him babe?

“Did you just call me babe?” Chanyeol accuses. He’s scared and naked, the worst combination he can think of. This _has_ to be a part of his dream. “Who are you? Where am I?”

The man looks at Chanyeol with genuine confusion. “We’re at your apartment.”

His apartment? This place is too nice to be his apartment. The floors don’t creak and there doesn’t seem to be any peeling wallpaper in sight. Not to mention the fact that there’s actually room to fit a king-sized bed in here. “This isn’t my apartment,” Chanyeol retorts back.

“What are you talking about?” The man asks, sounding annoyed.

“What are _you_ talking about?” Chanyeol spits back. “This isn’t my apartment and I don’t know who you are.”

“Are you ok? You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

No, Chanyeol isn’t ok. He’s cold, naked, and the stranger who’s equally just as naked on the bed doesn’t seem to understand that this situation is beyond crazy and-

“Oh my god!” Chanyeol shouts. This makes the man jump. “You’re Byun Baekhyun!”

“What?”

“You’re Byun Baekhyun!” Chanyeol blurts out again.

“Let’s just yell it out the window, why don’t we?”

This isn’t happening. Chanyeol’s dreaming. This is a dream. There’s no way the most popular idol, turned respected soloist, in all of South Korea is sitting there naked for all of him to see. Things like this don’t happen. In dreams, they do, which is what this is. A dream.

A slight draft between Chanyeol’s legs brings him back to the fact that he’s still naked—the cold temperature of the room making little goosebumps protrude from his skin. He looks around to find any trace of clothing, but comes up short. He wraps his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide, but the growing grin on Baekhyun’s face makes Chanyeol dive his hand down to cover up his bits. His hands are shaking, and this “dream” is slowly turning into a nightmare.

“I need clothes and I need to call Haesung,” Chanyeol says, mostly to himself. He roams around the room in search of anything that could help cover him up, but all the cabinets and drawers seem to be filled with video games and random books.

There’s footsteps coming from behind him, and when Chanyeol turns around, he sees Baekhyun extending a hand—offering him a shirt. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol says. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Baekhyun walks back to the bed and gets under the covers. “Sure.”

He dials Haesung’s number in hopes of getting some answers. Chanyeol paces back and forth as it continues to ring and ring. “Come on Haesung, pick up,” Chanyeol chants to himself. It goes to voicemail, and Chanyeol all but cries out in frustration.

“Who’s Haesung?” Baekhyun inquires—eyes squinted in suspicion.

Oblivious, Chanyeol curtly responds with “He’s a friend.”

“What kind of friend? You’ve never mentioned him before.” Baekhyun gets out of bed, and yep, he’s still naked.

“What? What do you mean what kind of friend? He’s a friend.”

Chanyeol dials the number again, trying to keep his eyes from wandering low, when Baekhyun snatches the phone out of his hand. There’s a stern look on his face. “Who’s Haesung?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? He’s my friend. What else do you want me to say?” He reaches out to take the phone back, but Baekhyun quickly swipes it out of his reach. Suddenly, Baekhyun scrunches his face like he’s about to cry and clutches dramatically at his chest. “Are you cheating on me?”

All the words in Chanyeol’s vocabulary fail to produce a coherent sentence at the sight of South Korea’s most precious idol standing naked and heartbroken in front of him. This is a clear indication that Chanyeol is not in his right mind and needs to wake up before something shocks him so bad to the point of cardiac arrest.

“Ok, you really need to calm down. I’m not dating Haesung. I’m not dating anyone, quite frankly,” Chanyeol sullenly says. He’s sad for a split second then comes back to his senses because this is not the time to be sad over his pathetic love life.

“Oh my god,” Baekhyun cries out. “You really are cheating on me.”

Fake sobs reverberate throughout the room and Chanyeol has half a mind to jump out the window except for the fact that he seems to be about fifty floors up. He looks down at a devastated Baekhyun slumped on the floor like someone just kicked his dog. It’s comical in Chanyeol’s eyes.

“Uh, no, I’m not cheating on you.” Chanyeol squats down to Baekhyun’s level. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Baekhyun snaps his head up with a look full of attitude on his face. “Well, your dick seemed to know who I was a few minutes ago,” he spits out.

Chanyeol truly can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. This must be some sort of record for being the most realistic dream ever dreamed in the history of dreams. “Look, it doesn’t matter who my dick recognizes. I need to get out of here.” Chanyeol motions at Baekhyun. “And will you _please_ put some clothes on?”

“This is _your_ apartment. Where are you gonna go?”

“Stop saying that,” Chanyeol chides. “If this were my apartment, how come I don’t know where anything is?” Baekhyun walks over to a set of drawers across the room and pulls out a pair of shorts and a green hoodie to wear—like second nature. He’s familiar with the place, that much Chanyeol can piece together. “And if you’re my boyfriend, how come I can’t remember you?”

There’s a look of annoyance on Baekhyun’s face again. “Just how much did you drink tonight?”

Frustrated, Chanyeol pulls at his hair and rubs at his temples. The stretch of skin under his hands does little to relieve the tension he’s feeling throughout his whole body. Maybe if he ran into a wall or something it would loop him back into the real world instead of this fantasy world where he lives by the Han River and sleeps with the nation’s “genius idol”.

A sudden thought pops into Chanyeol’s mind. He’s seen movies like this. It’s the classic, get-warped-into-an-alternate-universe trope he watched as a kid. He thinks back to how those movies ended, but nothing in particular seems to stand out. Maybe he really does need to slam himself against a wall. Unless…

“Are you my spirit guide?!” Chanyeol gasps, covering his mouth in mild shock.

“What? No- this isn’t some kind of movie. I’m your _boyfriend_.”

Well, that didn’t help. So, at this point, Chanyeol’s only option is to do the one thing he dreaded oh so much. “Right, so since that didn’t help, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna run into that wall over there in hopes that it’ll take me back.” He braces himself and balls his fists at his sides.

“Are you insane!?” Baekhyun yells. “How is running into a wall going to solve anything?”

He’s right, running head first into a wall might not solve Chanyeol’s problems, but he’ll try anything at this point to go back. “Not sure,” Chanyeol rushes out, crouching down into a starting position. He imagines a flare gun sounding in the distance to signal his start, but the terrified shriek of Baekhyun’s voice does it for him. He stares at the cream-colored wall in front of him and pivots forward—arms pumping wildly.

Chanyeol is momentarily disoriented when he comes through. His vision is blurry and pain coming from the side of his face strikes in fast throbs. He hears footsteps frantically making their way over to him.

“You idiot! Are you ok?” Chanyeol feels his head being cradled in someone’s lap, but with the hard hit he just endured he momentarily forgets who that person is. He blinks a few times to get his vision back, and sees Baekhyun looking down at him with worry across his face. Judging by the fact that the idol is red faced and teary eyed, Chanyeol knows it didn’t work. He closes his eyes and groans out in disappointment, and pain, but mostly out of regret, because who in their right mind runs full speed into a wall.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun calls. “Chanyeol, can you hear me?”

“Arrrghh.”

“Do you need a doctor?” Chanyeol can feel the way Baekhyun grabs his face and pulls it in different directions to examine the damage.

“No, there’s no use,” he croaks out. “It didn’t work.”

“No shit it didn’t work. What did you think would happen?”

Chanyeol breaks away from Baekhyun’s hold and leans back on his elbows to gather himself. His balance falters when he tries to stand, but luckily the wall he just crashed into catches him as he stumbles about. “I’m so fucked,” he whispers. If the wall didn’t work, then there’s no telling if he’ll ever go back to his normal life.

Outside in the living room, Chanyeol does a double take. A TV triple the size he has in real life sits mounted on a white marble tiled wall. The room itself is large and spacious with a barely functioning, but chic, sofa in the corner. Over in the kitchen, an island adorned with top of the line appliances sits pretty in the middle while a sleek chrome refrigerator hums gently in the background. Chanyeol glides his fingers across the granite countertops—feeling the cool surface tingle his skin.

This place belongs to an interior design magazine, and Chanyeol is half convinced that it does until he spots Baekhyun taking out ice cubes from the freezer. “Put this on your face,” Baekhyun says, smashing the bag up against Chanyeol’s cheek.

“I don’t know what to do.” Chanyeol takes a seat at one of the plastic stools placed in front of the island. “What am I going to do?”

Baekhyun pulls out the stool next to him and places a soothing hand on his thigh. “I don’t know what you’re trying to run away from,” Baekhyun says. “You’re famous and respected in this world. How do you think you can afford all this?” Baekhyun gestures to the apartment.

“What?”

“ And do you think you could get this.” Baekhyun motions to himself. “If you weren’t someone special?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and presses the ice harder against his face. “Shallow much?”

“That’s not- that’s not what I meant.” Chanyeol places the ice on the counter waiting to hear what Baekhyun “meant”. “But if you think about it...you know…”

“I’m going for a walk,” Chanyeol says, throwing aside the bag of ice. He can’t handle much more of Baekhyun’s half-hearted attempts at trying to placate the situation. Deep inside, Chanyeol doesn’t even feel embarrassed by the fact that he just willingly ran into a wall, not as embarrassed as listening to Baekhyun talk.

“A walk? It’s three in the morning,” Baekhyun points out. But it’s too late. Chanyeol’s already making his way over to the door and putting on the first pair of shoes he sees. “Are you going to come back?”

Chanyeol stops in his tracks and thinks about the question. Will he come back? If he figures out how to return, then no, he’s not coming back.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

And with that, Chanyeol pushes the front door open and heads for the elevator. He clutches his face once he reaches the first floor. It feels like someone punched him on the side of the head.

As Chanyeol walks along the Han River, he recognizes the neighborhood to be Seongsu-dong. He’s had to make a couple trips out here for meetings, but never took the time to thoroughly explore the city. Since it’s three in the morning, there’s not many people out and about; only a few couples walking home from a late night out and drunk old men hollering about communism.

Out in the distance, Chanyeol can see a group of guys playing basketball along the edge of the river. He thinks nothing of it when he walks by, but a familiar face has him take a second glance. He breaks into a jog as he maneuvers his way across the park.

“Haesung!” Chanyeol calls out. “Haesung it’s me, Chanyeol.”

All the men collectively groan as Chanyeol runs onto the court wide eyed and frantic—dodging multiple players along the way. “Haesung, oh my god, you would not believe what just happened to me.” Chanyeol reaches out to give his good friend a hug. Haesung holds up a hand, stopping Chanyeol from fully wrapping him in an embrace.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Haesung states. “Follow me.”

“What?” Chanyeol looks on in confusion as he struggles to keep up with his friend. “Where are you going?”

Without a second glance, Haesung continues to walk off the court and into the dense set of trees on the other side of the park. It’s dark and musky with mysterious bugs flying all around. There’s no one around, naturally, and the deeper Haesung goes, the more worried Chanyeol gets.

Finally, at what seems to be the end of the trees, Haesung stops and turns to look at Chanyeol—his face doesn’t give anything away. “I see you’ve woken up,” Haesung says, staring at Chanyeol with a serious expression. It’s kind of intimidating considering Haesung only ever looks at Chanyeol like that when he’s angry.

Chanyeol chuckles nervously. “Y-yeah.”

“And I’m not Haesung.”

Chanyeol looks up at his friend, or not his friend, and wonders what other worldly revelation he’ll have right now. “Then who are you?” Chanyeol asks, unamused. Early morning birds are now slowly chirping in the distance as dawn peeks through the horizon.

“I’m a spirit using your friend’s body as a vessel. Haesung doesn’t exist in this world.”

“OH” Chanyeol realizes. “So, you’re my spirit guide. I knew there was bound to be one eventually.”

“No one says spirit guide anymore. Only in the movies,” Haesung chuckles. “We like to think of ourselves as mentors.”

“Ok so, like, what’s my mission then?” Chanyeol asks, exhausted. The side of his face is throbbing again and the aches in his bones from lack of sleep get more pronounced as time passes.

Haesung, or spirit guide, or mentor, or whatever he’s called, walks in circles around Chanyeol like he’s examining a sculpture. His fingers are hooked under his chin with a pensive look on his face. “Hmm,” he hums out. “Just as I suspected. You haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?”

“Your new life.”

“Oh, I saw it alright. Butt naked and everything.”

The image from earlier sends chills down Chanyeol’s spine as he wills himself to come to terms with the fact that that happened. Of all the scenarios his spirit guide/mentor/Haesung could have started him off in, why naked and afraid in some strange apartment?

A roaring laughter comes from Haesung and he takes a minute to calm himself down before straightening back up to get back to business. “Good. You were supposed to see that.” Haesung tightens his lip in order to keep from laughing again.

“Are you gonna tell me my mission or not?” Chanyeol demands. He’s done waiting around for something to happen. Either he gets his mission and moves on, or he’ll walk back to the apartment and consider slamming himself against a window instead.

“What kind of movies have you been watching? There is no mission,” Haesung says.

“Apparently none you’ve seen.”

“Look, all we want you to do is learn from the life you have now, then everything will go back to normal.”

Chanyeol squints in suspicion. “Who’s we?”

He sees the way Haesung diverts his eyes toward the river—contemplating his next move. “Oh, silly me, did I say we?” He nervously clears his throat full of fake flem. “All I want you to do is learn from this life, and everything will go back to normal.”

“Yeah, nice try. Not buying that.” Chanyeol steps closer to Haesung, flaring his nostrils for good measure “Who’s we?”

Haesung cowers at the intense eye contact. “I-I’m not at liberty to say.”

Chanyeol backs off but doesn't let his gaze falter. He thinks if he keeps staring at Haesung, he’ll eventually get some answers. But that fails in a matter of seconds because now Haesung fights back with an equally piercing look that rivals Chanyeol ten out of ten times. “Ok, fine,” Chanyeol relents. “But how am I supposed to know if I “learned” anything or not?”

The air around them goes still and the temperature seems to be dropping by the second. Chanyeol rubs his hands together for warmth. Haesung stalks closer—standing centimeters from Chanyeol.

“Do you even know who you are in this world? The people you know, the lives you’ve touched?”

“No?”

“You mortals never look at the big picture, do you?” Haesung scoffs. “You don’t know how good you have it Chanyeol. Not until you learn.”

“Ok, but why me? Why not the real Haesung or anyone else?” Chanyeol sees his breath when he speaks, and his teeth start to chatter. There are sprinkles of snow falling from the sky followed by a thin white powder generously coating the ground and trees around them. A gloomy sky hangs in the air which makes the white of the snow seem almost neon. Haesung stands unwavering in the cold while Chanyeol wraps his arms around himself to gain heat.

“Why does anyone win in a raffle? Why do coincidences exist? It’s simple. Chance.”

“So, you’re telling me this is all chance?”

Haesung walks past him as if to admire his work with the snow. He looks up to savor the soft feeling of snowflakes hitting his face as well as the dew coating the air around them. “Not chance, Chanyeol. But fate.”

“Can you stop being so vague and tell me what the hell is going on?” Chanyeol asserts.

Sharp eyes turn to glare at Chanyeol. “Just go back to your apartment and see where things take you. I’ll pop by from time to time to check up on you. But I’ll warn you now. The longer you fail to learn your lesson, the longer you’ll be stuck here.”

Haesung vanishes into thin air. There is no more snow on the ground, just cold concrete. It’s morning now, by the sound of running buses and honking cars in the background. “Haesung?” Chanyeol whispers, looking around like a lost puppy. “Spirit guide?”

No use. He’s stuck here.

———

Back at the apartment, all is quiet from the commotion that occurred just hours before. The ice bag on the counter is gone and the curtains in the living room are still shut. Chanyeol walks back into the room he woke up in and finds Baekhyun sound asleep. He opts to sleep on the couch when a soft “Babe, you’re back” comes from the bed. Chanyeol stops and turns to see Baekhyun with half lidded eyes still riddled with sleep. The idol’s smile is crooked and lazy, but bright despite the darkness in the room. “Come back to bed. It’s still early,” Baekhyun says, patting the space next to him.

It’s tempting, but something doesn’t feel right about it. What Haesung said back in the park still rings in his head. “See where things take you,” he had said. But what exactly is Chanyeol supposed to do? He can live out his life here in this world just fine, by himself. But that option also doesn’t seem right considering he’s supposed to be “learning” something. He doesn’t know if acting out of the ordinary changes anything in his other life, but Chanyeol doesn’t want to mess with fate. After all, that is what Haesung has said. That this was all happening because of fate. This has Chanyeol thinking that maybe he should go sleep next to Baekhyun because that’s what the Chanyeol in this life seems like he would do.

So, Chanyeol creeps closer to the bed where Baekhyun has set up shop on the right side by the nightstand. He climbs on the bed and crawls over to the side closest to the wall. It’s awkward, to say the least, but he needs to keep this current life as normal as possible. Once he gets comfortable under the covers—set on going to sleep—Baekhyun huddles closer to rest his head on his chest.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” Baekhyun asks, mumbling into Chanyeol’s chest.

Chanyeol hums and closes his eyes to sleep, but not before brushing something akin to a bare nipple. He can’t believe this is happening again. This is what he gets for convincing himself that keeping things completely normal in this life is the way to go.

“Why are you naked?” It comes out as a statement more than a question because Chanyeol isn’t even shocked anymore—he’s too tired for this.

Baekhyun looks up through his lashes—rubbing random patterns onto Chanyeol’s chest. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

He feels bad about this whole thing. If he were a better man, then Baekhyun wouldn’t be having to go through this right now. He would have his boyfriend back without having to deal with all this nonsense. In another life, Baekhyun would be treated the way he’s supposed to be. Instead, he’s stuck with another version of _his_ Chanyeol. He’s stuck with a Chanyeol so beyond this universe that he’s become more of a burden than a good time. Chanyeol wishes he could turn back to when he was stuffed inside his little recording studio with Haesung frantically trying to finish tracks—not knowing their hard work would end up as the title track on Baekhyun’s solo album.

But this Baekhyun; the one practically on top of Chanyeol, doesn’t know that. In this universe, Chanyeol has no idea who he is or what he does for a living to be able to afford all this apartment, and most importantly, Baekhyun. In the crevices of his body, Chanyeol wishes he could go back to being a no-name music producer. He wishes he could go back to drowning himself in soju and cheap meat on the side of the road with the rest of his team.

With a long sigh, Chanyeol says “Let’s go to sleep. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

——

Sunlight creeping in through the cracks of the curtains stirs Chanyeol awake. He’s pressed tightly against Baekhyun’s chest and the sticky warmth coming from skin to skin contact makes Chanyeol’s face heat up. It’s comfortable to be in someone else’s arms, feeling the heat and weight of something other than a pillow. It’s been so long since Chanyeol’s been in a position like this and the security he feels, especially from the earth-shattering events that occurred not too long ago, makes him hate his body for waking up. The faint breaths fanning over the top of his head and the smooth feel of skin is an intimate touch he’s lacked for quite some time. Maybe this is what his spirit guide wants him to learn: love.

That’s it. Chanyeol needs to learn how to love in this new life. Love in all its capacities. Love under any circumstances. That’s what he’s been placed here to do. If he experiences love, wholeheartedly and passionately, he’ll go back to his regular life. He can do this. He can manage this.

Baekhyun quietly stirs a moment later, pulling Chanyeol from his thoughts. He feels Baekhyun rubbing small circles on his clothed lower back, then under his shirt where all the nerves on Chanyeol’s back seem to tingle. “Mm, morning babe,” Baekhyun sleepily says. His voice is husky, a stark contrast to the idol’s usually bright and cheery tone.

Chanyeol snuggles closer, throwing his legs around Baekhyun’s waist to get a secure grip. “Good morning,” he hums. The smell of Baekhyun’s bare skin is terribly familiar—like the ocean mixed with a hint of something floral. Fingers drag along Chanyeol’s scalp, taking with it all his worries and cares because he can’t remember if anyone has ever done this to him, aside from his mom, and the idea of falling back to sleep is heavy on his mind.

“Does this mean you remember me now?” Baekhyun gently asks, putting slightly more pressure on his strokes.

Lost in the relaxing sensation, Chanyeol almost forgets to reply. “No,” Chanyeol murmurs against Baekhyun’s chest. “But I think I know why I’m here.”

Baekhyun stops his ministrations on Chanyeol’s hair. “And why is that?”

With a pout, Chanyeol encourages Baekhyun to continue running his fingers through his hair by nudging his head on the idol’s chest. “You,” he softly answers.

He must have said something right because he feels Baekhyun crook a finger under his chin. Chanyeol stares into the idol’s eyes and sees for the first time how vulnerable and soft they really are. As he’s searching aimlessly in the brown orbs, Chanyeol tries to fathom why his spirit guide sent him here, in this exact time, with this exact person. There must be a reason.

A second later, Baekhyun smiles down and captures Chanyeol’s lips. It’s sweet and innocent, until it’s not. The finger under Chanyeol’s chin has disappeared somewhere down his shirt, and the tongue invading his mouth is the only warning he feels before the tug of his waistband slowly being pulled down. Chanyeol groans as he feels Baekhyun’s warm palm against him, which causes an involuntary buck of his hips that happens subconsciously. Baekhyun smiles against Chanyeol’s lips before wiggling down and disappearing under the covers.

“I could get used to this,” Chanyeol pants out, relishing in the feeling of Baekhyun peppering kisses along his chest.

“Mm.” Baekhyun hums in reply while lapping at a nipple. The feeling travels down to Chanyeol’s groin and the tingling in his lower belly causes him to push down on Baekhyun’s head over the covers for support. Undeterred, Baekhyun continues his path down Chanyeol’s body, stopping occasionally to press color changing kisses on places he finds extra adorable on his body. One under Chanyeol’s ribcage, on either side of his hips, and a blood surfacing mark on his inner thigh that makes Chanyeol gasp with both pain and pleasure.

The daunting premise of what’s to come next sits heavy on Chanyeol, literally, with the one thing Baekhyun has been expertly dodging since this fairly innocent, in Chanyeol’s book, form of foreplay started. Baekhyun has been avoiding the one thing Chanyeol thinks is going to happen, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can deal with his dick being the center of attention to Baekhyun’s hot breaths for the last five minutes. He understands the buildup, even almost succumbing to it by shoving Baekhyun’s head onto his unattended cock, but he endures it because he doesn’t want to make a wrong move and risk being stuck here even longer. But damn, if Baekhyun doesn’t devour his dick that literally has the words “eat me” written all over it in the next three seconds, something feral is bound to come out from within, which Chanyeol would much rather save for maybe...never.

Its torture. Chanyeol wishes Baekhyun would just lick along the tip from time to time instead of fanning over it with his mouth which is starting to gather hot moisture. It’s suffocating and no one should have to go through this. The anticipation is so palpable that Chanyeol’s chest has yet to stop heaving from the overwhelming thoughts floating around in his head. Thoughts of how good it’s going to feel when it actually happens, which seems like never at this point.

Finally. Finally, Baekhyun sinks down and hits home. Chanyeol is almost moved to tears, but instead wills himself to thrust his fist in the air like he just scored a field goal. He opens his legs wider for Baekhyun to comfortably get situated between his legs because who knows how long this will last. Chanyeol smirks at the thought.

Perhaps it won't be long, thought, with the way Baekhyun expertly uses his soft tongue to lick every inch of Chanyeol’s interested cock. He has half a mind to cum from the stimulation, diving his hand down under the covers to grab hold of Baekhyun’s hair to push the idol further down. Baekhyun groans at the movement which sends pleasure shooting up Chanyeol’s back from the heavy vibrations.

Chanyeol experiments by pulling back on Baekhyun’s hair to slightly thrust his hips up. It feels like heaven, but Baekhyun grumbles in disapproval and steadies Chanyeol’s hips instead. The pressure from Baekhyun’s hands coming down to hold him still coupled with the amazing feeling of the idol bobbing up and down between his legs, Chanyeol has a moment of weakness where he loosens his grip on Baekhyun’s hair and goes for cradling the back of his head. This seems to do the trick by the way Baekhyun times his movements and seemingly knows exactly when to put his tongue to use.

“ _Ah_ , Baek,” Chanyeol rushes out, just on the brink of finishing. “ _More_.” He really didn’t have to ask because Baekhyun takes his dick like a champ. Thoughts ranging from “this is really happening” and “it’s not a dream” repeat loudly like a mantra in Chanyeol’s mind. It overwhelms him to a point where he’s hyperconscious of his beating heart and the blooding flowing through his veins. Baekhyun is moving in fast succession now, taking Chanyeol in the back of his throat.

The wall separating Chanyeol’s sanity and willpower breaks as he feels himself spurt in white pearls into Baekhyun’s mouth. He expects Baekhyun to pull off and leave the mess for later, but the idol doesn’t budge. He takes what he’s given and holds it in his mouth when he surfaces from under the covers—cheeks filled with cum and flushed dangerously pink from the heat that collected under the covers. Baekhyun stares down at Chanyeol with sharp eyes and swallows the hot liquid in one go as if to say, “this is mine.” Chanyeol looks away in fear of having a second orgasm from just watching.

Baekhyun falls back onto the bed, trying to calm his erratic breath, but Chanyeol is on him a second later. He nudges his nose against Baekhyun’s cheek while mouthing at his chiseled jaw. Chanyeol bunches the duvet in his hands and slowly descends down Baekhyun’s body with a whisper of “my turn” before pulling the fabric completely over his head.

Baekhyun welcomes the invitation with a lazy smirk and says, “Your turn.”

The last thing Chanyeol hears is a soft moan escaping Baekhyun’s lips.

\---

As the sun sets over the horizon, Chanyeol is lethargic with post coital bliss. He’s spent and satisfied, drawing useless patterns along Baekhyun’s bare shoulder. They’ve been in bed for most of the day, and somewhere along the way, Chanyeol had shed his clothes even though they never made it to the point of sex. It might have been after Baekhyun settled down from his toe-curling orgasm that he shyly tossed Chanyeol’s sweats on the floor along with his ever-intrusive t-shirt claiming they “always sleep like this”—sticky and naked as babies.

They bask in the golden hour before sunset with their legs intertwined and Baekhyun’s head comfortably on Chanyeol’s chest. It’s quiet in the room, but Chanyeol can still hear Baekhyun’s high pitched screams bouncing off the walls. As expected from a world class vocalist.

But their silence doesn’t last long. A blaring ringtone sounds in the background and Baekhyun grumbles in annoyance. Chanyeol watches as the idol gets up and rushes over to retrieve the phone. He tosses it to Chanyeol. “It’s yours.”

“Hello?” Chanyeol answers. He feels Baekhyun climbing back in bed to assume his previous position—pressed against Chanyeol’s side.

“Hey Chanyeol, it’s Woohyun hyung. We got the tracks from DV Entertainment. Can you come by the studio to check it out?”

“U-uh sure. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Chanyeol hangs up and stares at the ceiling for what feels like the hundredth time. From what he can gather, his job is pretty much the same. He still produces music, but that doesn’t explain the apartment and Baekhyun. How does it tie into his life?

“Who was that?” Baekhyun asks, looking up at Chanyeol through his lashes.

“Woohyun hyung.”

“Hm, you better get going then.”

He would, if he knew where. “Go where?”

Baekhyun giggles against Chanyeol’s chest. “Your studio in Gangnam.”

His studio? His own personal studio? “Right…”

“Come on. I’ll drive us over there.”

In the parking garage, they approach a sleek black car parked in the corner. The interior is pitch black with red accents riddled throughout. This is probably the most expensive car Chanyeol’s ever been in, and to think Baekhyun owns this car kind of puts everything into perspective. Chanyeol is wealthy in this life, and as suspected, the people he acquaints himself with are wealthy as well. But why?

The drive into Gangnam is quite pleasant as Baekhyun's car seemingly glides through the streets. Seoul looks pretty much the same in this world as it does in Chanyeol’s normal world aside from the fact that his perspective of the city has completely changed. Having a studio in Gangnam itself is a feat he could only imagine achieving, and the fact that he’s being called in to review tracks that weren’t made by him or Haesung is also something wildly different than what he’s used to.

When they pull into a parking garage under a modern black building, Chanyeol is once again blown away. Not only is his studio in Gangnam, but more specifically Apgujeong—one of the most expensive neighborhoods in all of South Korea. Real estate in this neck of the woods doesn’t just get sold to anyone. No, you need connection upon connection to even consider buying a building here. Yet, all signs point to the notion that this building is indeed Chanyeol’s, as in, he owns it. Surely there must be tons of people backing him up on this. Maybe Baekhyun secretly bought it for him in an act of love. That’s what wealthy people do for each other, right?

Once they walk into the building, with Baekhyun loosely holding onto Chanyeol’s arm, the interior is terribly monochrome in dark gray, with the only object of color being the small vase of flowers on the front counter. A woman aged to be around twenty-five, or older, who knows nowadays, greets both of them with a cheery “good evening” that seems to spill out of her impeccable smile that could draw in anybody who dares to spare a glance.

As Chanyeol further takes in her appearance, he sees how beautiful she really is. Her skin is fair and milky—like half the population of Korea—but there’s something about the way this woman’s skin perfectly matches her long, orange-brown hair on top of her slim face and rounded chin that adds the perfect amount of cuteness to her already dazzling eye smile. It’s a fleeting glance, but it’s one that warrants acknowledging. Chanyeol wonders if he was the one who hired her.

The deeper they go into the building, the more anxious Chanyeol becomes. Despite the fact that buildings like these are decorated pretty much the same all throughout Korea—cold, modern, and tiny—Chanyeol feels as if he’s seeing it for the first time. It’s not anything new, by any means, but the absence of his usual partner in crime, Haesung, who almost always acts an invisible crutch in any given situation, especially ones involving work, is taking a bigger toll on Chanyeol than he thought.

Once they reach a large conference room at the end of the hallway, Chanyeol takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. There are already a few people seated around a large wooden table dressed in tight, black and navy-blue suits. Chanyeol looks down at himself and realizes that he is terribly underdressed.

“Hello,” Baekhyun greets, dipping his bow a little lower for added politeness. He’s got a death grip on Chanyeol’s arm now, which means something isn’t right.

A string of overly excited “hello’s” spills from everyone’s mouths, and a constant murmur traps and rings throughout the room. “We’re very excited to be working with you,” a man—with shiny, slicked back hair and thin lips—says before taking a seat at the head of the table. Being in the music industry as long as Chanyeol has, he knows this isn’t just some meeting. Having gotten the short end of the stick in these types of meetings many times, these people aren’t here for music, they’re too corporate, too serious, to know anything about synth and beats per minute.

Chanyeol finds a seat on the other side of the table with Baekhyun still at his heels— the grip on his arm hasn’t subsided in pressure. A man joins them a couple seconds later and finds a seat right next to Chanyeol. He assumes this is Woohyun hyung, the man he spoke with earlier. He gives Chanyeol a knowing glance.

A lady with a bold red lip and fake eyelashes speaks up. “I’m sorry, but we were told we’d be meeting with just Loey today.”

“This is a preliminary meeting. Once he approves the tracks, then we can discuss one on one meetings,” Woohyun asserts.

Who’s Loey? It can’t be him. If it is him, his stage name is better than the “Iron Main” one he used in the other universe. Of course, no one ever knew about it because, well, someone higher up with a far cleverer name always got credit for whatever Chanyeol made. He shivers at the thought of them laughing at his name behind his back.

“Great, we have the tracks here if you want to give it a listen.” A laptop is being pushed toward Chanyeol to which Woohyun intercepts halfway. He turns to Chanyeol as if to ask if he’s ok with it. Slowly, Chanyeol nods his approval.

Music blooms from the speakers and immediately Chanyeol is in his element. He slips his arm out of Baekhyun’s grasp to fully immerse himself into the song. It’s good. It reminds him of something he and Haesung would do—adding elements of pop and R&B with a hint of EDM. Of course, there’s always room for improvement, which Chanyeol is confident can do. He’s confident that with a little tender love, and care, this track can go a long way.

He finds himself tapping his fingers along with the beat—easily giving away how interested he is in the song. Chanyeol remembers Haesung giving him a pep talk before their first big meeting with entertainment companies. “These people have their faces permanently sewn to look constipated. They never give anything away, remember that.”

Consciously, Chanyeol suppresses his inner urge to groove. Instead, he presses the pause button and turns to look at Woohyun and says, “I think I can arrange it.”

“That’s great.” Someone pipes in. “We can meet again to discuss payment.”

At this, Woohyun abruptly stands to excuse Chanyeol. “Why don’t you and Baekhyun go grab something to eat. I’ll deal with everything here.”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says. He stands and bows before making his way out of the room with Baekhyun’s fingers slipping through his somewhere along the way. There’s a moment of uncertainty when Chanyeol stands in the poorly lit hallway. Did he just get kicked out of the meeting or does that always happen? He turns to Baekhyun smiling up at him before walking them in the direction of a room at the end of the hallway.

The room is large and spacious. There’s a couch tucked against the wall with quirky cushions scattered on top and a long cabinet filled with shiny figurines that trumps Chanyeol’s pathetic collection that sits unattended at his apartment—in his other life. Not to mention the wide soundboard and speakers sitting pretty in the middle of the room complete with two comfortably padded chairs for comfort. It’s beautiful in Chanyeol’s eyes—slightly more than Baekhyun. Another thing Chanyeol notices is how much room there is between the sound pit and the recording booth. His old set up with Haesung used to be singing through a portable microphone to record their demos, but this, this right here, is a spectacle worthy of emotion.

Chanyeol feels like a kid in a candy store trying so hard not to touch and ruin anything out of sheer excitement. Instead, he sits in one of the chairs and runs his fingers along the knobs and buttons that seem to stretch on as far as the eye can see. The possibilities are seemingly endless and Chanyeol is so eager to learn that he’s willing to stay overnight in order to get a little alone time with what’s in front of him.

“Come look at this,” Baekhyun calls. This tears Chanyeol’s attention away from the machine in front of him and focuses it on five plaques hung side by side on the wall. Platinum plated records sit stoic and pristine to the point where Chanyeol can see his reflection. When he gets close enough to read the inscription, he sees that all these are made out to him. Not believing his eyes, Chanyeol darts back and forth between each plaque just to make sure his brain’s working right. He can’t believe this is happening. Five songs he’s helped produce all went platinum.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol smiles. “Who am I?”

There’s no response, just a proud smile plastered on Baekhyun’s face. The look is all knowing. Chanyeol has a concept of who he is—can take a pretty wild guess too—but he wants to hear it from someone else, coming from their mouths.

Perhaps he should have seen this coming the minute he asked because Baekhyun is now tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling him close. “Well,” Baekhyun starts. “You’re a sexy and crazy talented music producer with your own amazing company. But most importantly…” Chanyeol holds his breath. “You’re mine,” Baekhyun growls, dipping his hand down to give Chanyeol’s butt a hardy squeeze through his sweats. The idol’s giggle reverberates throughout the room as Chanyeol tries his best to suppress his growing blush. He leans down to place sweet kisses on Baekhyun’s cheeks—slipping his arms around the idol’s slim waist. It’s a sentimental moment with just the two of them lost in each other’s eyes, standing in the middle of Chanyeol’s recording studio. There’s also something extremely hot about the idea of Baekhyun potentially walking into the studio with nothing but a tight black shirt and form fitting sweat pants to provide a “distraction” after a hard day’s work.

That thought travels south in Chanyeol’s body, but he stores that image away for another day when a knock interrupts them. Chanyeol steps back and leans against the wall like he wasn’t just about to shove his hand down Baekhyun’s pants.

Woohyun walks in and looks between him and Baekhyun in mild suspicion. “You guys were just about to have sex in here, weren’t you?” There’s a cheeky smile on the man’s face.

“What?” Chanyeol splutters. “N-no. Of course not.”

“Ok, whatever. Don’t think I haven’t seen it before though. I know your dirty secrets.”

Chanyeol clenches his eyes shut in hopes of getting rid of the second hand embarrassment. The fact that his actions in this life are so promiscuous makes him both extremely petrified and turned on at the same time. Come to think of it, that’s not a good combination, so Chanyeol mentally promises himself that he will not have sex with Baekhyun in this studio—no matter how strong the idol comes on. He can control himself. He wasn’t placed here to live out his wildest fantasies, no, he’s here to learn about love and acceptance.

“Anyway, I just got out of the meeting with DV Entertainment,” Woohyun explains. “They were trying to cut you an eighty-twenty deal, which is absurd.” The man walks over to the couch on the far end of the room and sits with his feet up on the coffee table. “But I wheeled and dealed with them, so we should be fine.”

Funny, how just yesterday Chanyeol was on the side of getting a twenty percent cut with music he made himself. Now, in this universe, all he has to do is send in Woohyun to sweet talk entertainment companies into giving him an appropriate amount for his hard work. This world isn’t just perfect, it’s utopia, heaven. Everything Chanyeol could ask for is at the wave of his hand. He has money, friendship, and a hot idol boyfriend to live for in this world, which is why Chanyeol involuntarily squints in suspicion. This is all too good, too sweet, to be a reality in which people want to stay in. There’s a catch somewhere down the line, but Chanyeol doesn’t know how far it goes. For now, Chanyeol will enjoy whatever his new life throws at him.

Baekhyun clears his throat, interrupting Chanyeol’s thoughts. “Does that mean we can get out of here now?”

Woohyun looks up from his phone. “There’s nothing else to attend to, so I guess you guys are clear to go. Oh, but don’t forget DV wants the track done ASAP.”

“Ok,” Chanyeol replies, excited to finally get a chance to put the soundboard to good use. He can hardly wait.

\---

Back at the apartment, Baekhyun suggests they order take out and enjoy a quiet night in. After a long few hours at the studio, it feels nice to finally be able to sit and not worry about anything except eating. They settle on boiled pork belly with a side of fried chicken. The couch Chanyeol had previously thought was functionless actually turns out to be the most comfortable couch he’s ever sat on. It reclines back with a push and has built in cupholders on the side.

Baekhyun picks up the remote from the side of the couch and aimlessly scrolls through the list of movies that seem endless. By default, he chooses a Marvel movie before opening up the boxes of food. Chanyeol notices how comfortable Baekhyun is with all of this. He doesn’t want to ask the question that’s been sitting at the tip of his tongue since the beginning of his time here, but looking as Baekhyun has yet to return to a place of his own has Chanyeol biting his tongue. He doesn’t want to sound rude or offensive, but questions seem to be the only thing he _can_ think of at the moment. Surely, Baekhyun has a place he calls his own, and surely Chanyeol will eventually be left alone to his own devices so he can gawk at his overly priced downtown apartment in peace.

He takes a chance and dances around the question. “Hey, um, I want to ask you something but don’t get offended, ok?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Do you always stay here? In my apartment?” The words ‘my apartment’ feel weird rolling off Chanyeol’s tongue, and it leaves behind a questionable aftertaste.

Baekhyun shakes his head while stuffing a giant piece of lettuce filled with pork into his mouth. “I stay here only when I don’t have schedules. Which is most of the time for right now since my group just finished promotions.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol nods. So, he won’t be fawning over the impeccable PC set up he saw in the other room earlier when he first walked in anytime soon. That puts a damper on Chanyeol’s mood significantly because he takes gaming very seriously, aside from making music of course, and he’s itching to have an intense battle with some random stranger on the internet alone so he can react accordingly without being judged.

“But don’t worry, I have to go back to my place later tonight for some stuff I have to take care of tomorrow,” Baekhyun says.

This shouldn’t excite Chanyeol, but it does. He can finally have some free time to himself without having the be smothered by Baekhyun in some way. Quickly, he dispels those thoughts in fear that Haesung, his spirit guide, can somehow listen to his thoughts. Chanyeol also doesn’t know how to respond to Baekhyun’s departure because if he were to tell the truth, he might end up stuck in this world forever, but if he acts too sad the idol might never leave. There is no winning in this, so Chanyeol responds like any reasonable person would. With a kiss.

Salty soy sauce lingers on Chanyeol’s tongue as the idol slowly opens his mouth into the kiss. This wasn’t the route Chanyeol was thinking of taking, considering they still have fresh food waiting to be eaten on the table in front of them, but the tantalizing heat emanating from Baekhyun’s mouth is strong enough to knock the wind out of Chanyeol’s chest and send it straight down to his crotch—movie long forgotten.

In an instant, Chanyeol scoots back onto the couch with Baekhyun situated comfortably on his lap. His hands take place around Baekhyun’s tiny waist and the small whimpers coming from the idol has Chanyeol wiggling with want. “I didn’t know me leaving would turn you on this much,” Baekhyun teases. “We’ll just have to find other ways to get you excited because I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

The words rattle in Chanyeol’s ears and turns him on even more. Who knew a little teasing mixed with a sultry undertone would do the trick? Something about the way Baekhyun pays special attention to his neck always seems have an effect on Chanyeol, even if it is their second time being intimate. His eyes roll to the back of his head when Baekhyun dips down to tongue at his Adams apple with so much certainty that the action itself is enough to muster all the strength in Chanyeol’s bones to flip the idol onto his back.

“Who said I’d want you to,” Chanyeol smirks. The smell of fried chicken assaults Chanyeol’s nose in the middle of him trying to be sexy, and he can’t help but scrunch his face to rid the fumes from his senses. This is not the time to be pseud by poultry. This is high time to be getting some action.

Chanyeol tilts his head to the side to latch onto Baekhyun’s neck, nipping at the milky skin. Dull finger nails press lightly into his back as Chanyeol experimentally moves his hips in a slow, lethargic pace.

The pressure from leaning on his elbows is enough to exhaust Chanyeol on any given day, but with Baekhyun’s blissed out expression settled in between, this is all the strength he needs to continue. He doesn’t really know what Baekhyun likes in terms of sex, so Chanyeol goes with the basics by sliding the other’s shirt up to press hard kisses on his sternum, leaving behind wet trails of saliva. Then, he diverts left to lick at a nipple before completely taking it into his mouth. _That_ causes Baekhyun to twist his fingers into Chanyeol’s hair and pull.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun breaths out.

Spurred on, Chanyeol smirks into his kiss along the smooth expanse of Baekhyun’s stomach. The grasp on his hair creates a sharp pain on his scalp, but it doesn’t compare to the overwhelming pleasure Chanyeol feels in his gut.

When he reaches just above the waistband of Baekhyun’s jeans, Chanyeol takes a moment to assess the situation. He’s about to go where, hopefully, not a lot of people have been. Heck, he doesn’t even know how long they’ve been dating.

“Lube,” Baekhyun urges. To that, Chanyeol matches with “Condoms.”

There’s a strange look on Baekhyun’s face, almost like disgust, at the sound of his words. “We haven’t used condoms in forever. Just get the lube.” That answers his question.

Chanyeol looks in the direction of Baekhyun’s pointed finger to the cabinet in the TV stand. There is no time for contemplation, embarrassment, or ego at this moment because the blossoming erection Chanyeol is sporting under his sweats is about to be in full bloom any second now. He rushes to retrieve the bottle and quickly makes his way back between Baekhyun’s legs.

His shaking hands grip tight onto the idol’s jeans and carefully maneuvers his way through the buttons and tricky zipper. At last, Chanyeol curves his hand around the swell of Baekhyun’s butt and pulls down the fabric in one go. Chanyeol thumbs at Baekhyun’s inner thighs, taking in how smooth and toned they are. He hadn’t gotten a good at the idol’s body the first time they decided to blow each other until sundown. But now, in the full light of the living room, Chanyeol sees with full clarity just how beautiful Baekhyun really is.

Of course, he noticed how wide the idol’s shoulders were at first glance, but piecing together the rough lines of his collarbones and the stringy veins along his neck have Chanyeol weak in the knees before even getting to the good part. Suddenly, he feels self-conscious at the notion of taking off his own clothes and Baekhyun seems to sense that by the way he soothingly traces circles on Chanyeol’s wrist. “It’s ok,” Baekhyun whispers with a smile.

It’s too light in this room—the white colored walls and floor making it even more so— and Chanyeol wishes it would be a touch darker, but they’ve established it’s going to happen right here on this couch way before the insecurities popped up.

So, Chanyeol takes off his hoodie and tosses it aside along with his baggy black sweats. They’re naked now, with the leather of the couch sticking tight against their skin. Baekhyun wastes no time in grabbing the abandoned bottle of lube from somewhere on the couch and pours the liquid onto Chanyeol’s awaiting hand. Chanyeol sucks in his breath and braces for impact when he traces his finger around the idol’s rim before fully inserting his finger. Baekhyun lets out a staggered breath as he heaves from pleasure.

Heat coming from within Baekhyun has Chanyeol moaning in desperation and he doesn’t know where to find purchase except for the crook of Baekhyun’s neck. He slides in and out a few times before adding another finger. The idol pants and whines into Chanyeol’s ear and digs his fingers farther into the taught muscles of Chanyeol’s back. It’s when Chanyeol goes for a third finger, without warning, that Baekhyun screams with pleasure. This startles Chanyeol at first, looking down in mild concern. Then, Baekhyun digs his heels into Chanyeol’s lower back and tiredly slips out “Keep going” before tugging on the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss.

The idol bucks his hips up in time with Chanyeol’s busy fingers. “Now,” Baekhyun argues. “Do it now.”

At the urgent proposition, Chanyeol slips his fingers out and lines himself up. He pushes in until he’s flush against Baekhyun’s groin—the low moan vibrating throughout his body, doing nothing to hide how good Baekhyun feels. “Oh my god,” Chanyeol growls, moving his hips in fast succession to savor in the feeling. He catches both of Baekhyun’s hands and pins them above the idol’s head to remove any distractions from the task at hand.

In Chanyeol’s normal reality, he hadn’t gotten laid in over two months. In this reality, all Chanyeol has to do is ask for it and it’s gladly given. His ego is stroked, among other things, at the thought, and his cocky smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by Baekhyun.

“You good?” The idol asks, biting his lower lip and holding back a pleasured hiss.

Without answering, Chanyeol goes faster in hopes that his intentions ring through. He’s so close to the edge that the death grip he currently has on Baekhyun’s hands draw them white. He wants this to last. He wants this moment to be branded into his mind even when he returns to normal life.

But like all good things, Chanyeol finishes heavy and satisfied with Baekhyun trailing not far behind. Their bodies seemingly slump together as the fuzzy high still surrounds them. Breathing heavy and head filled with nothing but bliss, Chanyeol looks down at Baekhyun and swipes away the hair sticking to his face. Chanyeol giggles in delight.

“That was…good,” Chanyeol admits. His voice has gone slightly sour, but he feels that it adds to the moment.

“Best I ever had,” Baekhyun chuckles, eyes half lidded.

After a few more minutes of basking, they turn their attention to the now cold food sitting on the table. They eat in peaceful silence as the movie they tried to watch earlier plays crisp through the expensive speaker system.

Around midnight is when Baekhyun heads for the front door. Chanyeol leans against the doorway, watching the idol put his shoes on to leave for the night. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Baekhyun says, placing a light kiss on Chanyeol’s lips.

He stands there, frozen, for a moment longer, feeling the kiss still burning on his lips. Chanyeol buries his head in his hands and skips happily down the hall to finally get acquainted with the elegant computer sitting shiny and untouched. To his utter shock, he finds Haesung sitting in the chair, waiting.

“Long time no see,” Haesung says, quirking an eyebrow.

Chanyeol gasps in shock. “How did you get in here?”

“I’m a spirit, remember?” That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing here, but Chanyeol lets it slide because he’s still in a giddy state. “I’m here to see how you’ve been doing so far. Learn anything yet?”

He’s learned a lot of things in this universe, some things better than others, but Chanyeol assumes Haesung is talking about Baekhyun. “I think I know why I’m here,” Chanyeol confidently says.

Haesung pushes off the chair in excitement. “Really? You do?”

“Yeah, it’s Baekhyun right? Learning about love?”

Immediately, the room turns cold. This reminds Chanyeol of the last time it snowed in the park—he braces himself for snowflakes. “You can learn about love in movies or something. That’s not why you’re here,” Haesung states.

“What? Then why am I here?”

Haesung lets out a long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I knew I should have stuck with archangels. I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“Hey, you going tell me why I’m here?” Chanyeol asserts.

Haesung paces back and forth in the tiny room. Snowflakes have started to fall in a light powder and Chanyeol can only cringe at the sight of the computer on the verge of freezing. He walks up to it in an attempt to warm it up, but Haesung stops him in his tracks and grabs him by his shirt collar. “You need to get your shit together,” the spirit hisses out.

Chanyeol stills with fear. “W-what’s going on?”

“You have a time limit, Chanyeol. You can’t stay here forever.”

“Wait, but you told me if I mess up, I’d be stuck here longer.” He watches as Haesung fumbles with his hands.

“That was before I knew it would take you this long to it figure out!” Haesung shrieks, pacing back and forth again.

The room is nearing frost bite inducing levels, but Haesung doesn’t seem to be phased one bit. Chanyeol wraps his arms around himself to retain heat, but it does nothing to keep the cold away. Cracks on the ground from sleet start to form on the floor and the walls around them seem to be crusting over with ice at an alarming rate. Chanyeol tries for the door, but it’s frozen shut.

“Haesung!” Chanyeol exclaims. “You’ll kill us both! Make it stop!”

His urgency seems to go in one ear and out the other. Haesung stomps toward him with conviction riddled in his eyes. “You figure this out or else both of us will _really_ be dead.”

In an instant, Haesung is gone and the room returns to normal. All the strength in Chanyeol’s body gives out and he falls to the floor, exhausted. The last thing he sees before slipping into darkness is the still untouched computer sitting beautifully on the desk. This life is so unfair.

\---

When morning arrives, Chanyeol is startled awake by his phone. As he fishes it out of his pocket, he sees that it’s Woohyun calling. Still fogged with sleep, Chanyeol answers with a groggy “Hello?”

“Are you coming in today?” Woohyun asks.

The front of Chanyeol’s head throbs and his hearing goes fuzzy for a couple of seconds before fully popping. He fell asleep in the room he was in yesterday and the shooting pain in his lower back reminds him that the floor is not an adequate place to sleep unless there’s ample amounts of blankets and a proper pillow. Crust in the corners of his eyes keep Chanyeol from fulling opening them.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit,” Chanyeol answers, sleep still evident in his voice. This is a new kind of tired that Chanyeol hasn’t felt in a very long time. He assumes it has something to do with Haesung’s visit, but he can’t be sure. Whatever it is he’s supposed to figure out, it needs to happen fast, or else, as Haesung so politely put, ‘they’ll really be dead.’

Some part of his life is the sole reason he was put in this alternate universe, but what else could it be if it’s not about Baekhyun? Perhaps it could have something to do with his career, but seeing how successful he is with his music, Chanyeol can’t wrap his head around all of this.

At his studio, barely awake and almost missing his stop at the subway station, Chanyeol bumps into Woohyun in the dimly lit hallway. “Are you ok?” Woohyun asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look like you got hit by a bus.” Quickly, Chanyeol takes out his phone to check himself in the front camera.

Yep, he does indeed look like someone beat him up on the side of the road then dressed him up in a horrible green colored beanie and some specs. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing the same hoodie from last night—caked with leftover food and a mysterious grease stain. “I had a rough night,” Chanyeol dismisses.

It has been a rough few hours, but he’s determined to get his hands on that soundboard even if it kills him. He’s not going to leave this world without having at least an hour of alone time with it—no exceptions. So, he sets off in the direction of the room at the end of the hallway and situates himself in a padded wheely chair, determined not to get up from it. The first sounds of the sample he heard in the meeting a few days back plays through the speakers in clarity. As he listens to the intricate beats, he mentally makes note of what parts he wants to change and keep.

For the first time since he’s been in this universe, Chanyeol feels normal— nothing but him and the sound of music. He turns to the empty chair next to him and imagines Haesung sitting beside him, pointing out differences in beat count or asking if something sounds good. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Chanyeol also misses the man’s incessant nagging whenever possible. ‘Soon’ Chanyeol thinks to himself as he focuses back to the task at hand.

It must be a few hours before his eyes officially start to fry from staring at a screen for so long. The sky is dark when Chanyeol glances at the window, with a full view of Seoul. A knock at the door pulls him out of his work induced state, and when he turns around, he sees Baekhyun lugging two big bags of what looks like food.

“Dinner,” Baekhyun says, placing the giant plastic bags filled with boxes on the table. Chanyeol can smell the sweet taste of pizza and tempura lingering in the air. “I figured you haven’t eaten so I brought these for you.”

Chanyeol wheels over to Baekhyun and pulls him in for a hug. “Thank you.”

A hint of lavender mixed with vanilla fills Chanyeol’s nose as he buries his face into Baekhyun’s hair. He’s going to miss having someone care for him, miss him, and most importantly, love him. When he returns to his normal life, Chanyeol will have none of this. No more fancy soundboard, no more luxurious apartment, and no more Baekhyun. These are all things that have seemingly creeped into Chanyeol’s heart, and the prospect of not having them anymore brings down a heavy cloud over his head.

Suspecting this oddly timed emotion, Baekhyun pulls back from Chanyeol’s hug and smiles at him as if to comfort—even though he doesn’t know why.

“Let’s eat,” Chanyeol says, digging in for a slice of pizza. No matter where he is, pizza is always the same delicious flavor. “Yum.” “So, how’s the song coming along?” Baekhyun says over a mouthful of tempura.

“It’s going well. There isn’t much to change, really. Just cleaning up some of the lines that’s all.”

It’s obvious Baekhyun doesn’t know what Chanyeol’s talking about, but it’s the thought that counts. When they finish their meal, Chanyeol goes right back to where he left off. He was telling the truth when he said there isn’t much to take care of on the track—even thinking it could be sent out tonight. Judging by how “almost” perfect it is, Chanyeol assumes it must have been filtered through multiple producers who have ultimately put their own flare into it, just like him.

It must be hours before Chanyeol finally calls it quits. Rubbing at his tired eyes and cracking the stress out of his bones helps him settle into departure mode. He taps Baekhyun softly on the shoulder—having fallen asleep between two and three in the morning.

“Let’s get out here,” Chanyeol whispers, kissing the top of the idol’s head.

Their night, or morning, ends quietly and without any surprise visits from Haesung. The lingering feeling of his past encounter with spirit Haesung sends a chill down Chanyeol’s spine. He’s been trying to figure out the reason for being here, for being sent to this specific moment in time, but all answers come up short other than the fact that it has to do something with music. Maybe the track is the key to his way back. Maybe he’s supposed to change the track entirely and make it his own. But how? It’s already been tweaked enough, and if Chanyeol were to change it completely, he would just make a new one from scratch. It makes no sense.

The thought lingers in Chanyeol’s mind until morning, in the studio that day, even when the track gets released a couple days later, Chanyeol still has unsettling thoughts about this one track that seems to be the answer no matter which angle he looks at it.

Now, he doesn’t know how this ‘going back to reality’ thing works, but it must be instant, and he should get some warning. Except, Chanyeol’s still here, which means he hasn’t figured it out yet.

Until one foggy morning in Seoul as people are just starting to get up for work. All it took was two words—his own name. Chanyeol stares at the sheet in front of him and thinks. Thinks back to the night with his team and Haesung, trying to convince themselves that the work they did wasn’t in vain. Thinks back to all the times him and Haesung got tossed around from company to company being promised a feature that eventually turned into flower arrangements being sent to their office doting a heartfelt note filled with rejection.

Except, Chanyeol is now the one sending flower baskets and buying expensive furniture with the money he blatantly stole from dozens of people. He gets it now. The track, why it was sent to him when it was already perfect, the meeting Woohyun had quickly dismissed him of. This is what it was for. This is what it all comes down to. This track has Chanyeol’s name printed all over it—just his name. And Chanyeol would bet everything he owns to the fact that at least five people were paid to keep quiet about the rights to the song.

This is what it’s all about. Getting a taste of the high life filled with celebrity boyfriends and thousand-dollar bottles of champagne in the fridge. Chanyeol is living the life of the people he despises. And to think he’s dreamed of being in this exact position disgusts him right down to the very last note.

He rips the flimsy paper in his hands and storms into Woohyun’s office. “You stole that track.”

Woohyun hangs up the phone and stares worriedly into Chanyeol’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

“The track form DV Entertainment. You stole it and put my name all over it.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s how most songs are made Chanyeol,” Woohyun dismisses.

He can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. How can someone in such a high place even fathom the idea of thinking this is ok. No one’s asking for a hero and no one’s asking for great music. If things get treated fairly, and it happens to be a big hit, then credit is due where it’s rightfully due, so Chanyeol says the words he never thought he would ever have to say: “I want to give it back.”

“Are you crazy?” Woohyun argues, standing from his place behind the desk.

“No. I want my name taken off the track.”

“Why? You helped make it too.”

“But the fifteen other people before me did a much better job,” Chanyeol teases. “I want my name taken off or I’ll do it myself.”

“Ok, fine.” Woohyun holds his hands in surrender.

It’s a blur when Chanyeol steps out of the building and heads to the subway station to take him to the apartment. Across the platform, on the other side of the station, he spots Haesung, or spirit guide, smiling proudly in his direction. He knows he did the right thing which means it’s time for Chanyeol to go.

Back at the apartment, he finds Baekhyun to be sound asleep on the bed. One last time, Chanyeol crawls under the covers and wraps his arms around the idol—squeezing hard. He savors in the unique scent of Baekhyun and wills himself to remember this exact moment. His work in this life is complete.

“Goodbye,” Chanyeol whispers before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

\---

A blaring car horn stirs Chanyeol awake. Gritty wallpaper is the first thing he sees as he pushes himself up on his bed. The dark wooden wardrobe taking up half the room sits stuffed and muggy against the wall where Chanyeol keeps all his clothes and useless items. There is no massage chair in the corner and there is no king-size bed to swallow him whole. He’s in the real world where Haesung exists and their music is still taken for granted.

His phone buzzes somewhere on the bed, and its a from a number Chanyeol doesn’t recognize.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hello, my name is Noh Yongmin. I’m calling from SM Entertainment.”

Chanyeol sits up straight and clears his throat. “Y-yes, hello.”

“We’ve reviewed your file and we think there’s an artist who would be interested collaborating with you.”

Chanyeol drops his phone and does a happy dance in excitement. “I thought you’d never call.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hyuneebunches) [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/hyuneebunches)


End file.
